Chris Rattue: Warriors' result a sad commentary

"It's the day many Kiwis thought would never come," screamed TV league commentator Jason Costigan, who sounds so hyped up that you wonder how he ever gets to sleep.

First, an admission - and it's a big one. I've got to like Jason Costigan. Just.

At first it felt like insult upon injury having an Aussie with extreme linguistic traits calling the Warriors games, what with the club forever run by Ockers and fixated on recruiting from across the Tasman.

"Is there anybody out there who comes from Auckland league?" you felt like yelling, Costo-style, as Costo yelled at you.

Costo might steer clear of the Warriors' defects, he gets the annoy-o-meter racing at times, and he could certainly do with less garbled back-up from his commentary mates. It's a tough act, working in the same field as the great Ray Warren. But Costo does a pretty sharp job.

And put it this way. In the list of crimes associated with a betrayal of much that was possible for an Auckland-based professional league club, Costo's misdemeanours don't rate.

Unhindered by extreme local loyalty, at least he avoids too much navel-gazing. And if you indulged in too much navel-gazing with this mob ... well, it just wouldn't be much fun.

Costo's commentary Everest is Sione Faumuina. For those who haven't heard his Faumuina and want to know how it's done, try this. Say 'Faumuin' and then smash your thumb with a hammer while doing the 'ah' bit.

But even the FaumuinARRRR had to take a back seat on Saturday night.

And so did any sense of reason in what became the Stacey Jones Farewell Two Hours.

Costo and co. became unlimited. Jones, the "Little General", has trouble taking his troops over the top, but this is a place the commentators had no trouble in reaching - although as the game took shape, they had to conduct a sneaky withdrawal.

For any league commentator there may be no greater moment than saying goodbye to a legend. It's a chance to fling the superlatives about, and see if you can leave the house without a dry eye in sight.

The usual way to get Warriors fans to shed tears is to wave the points table in front of them, but this was a whole new ball game.

The day many Kiwis thought would never come, you might have guessed, was the final home game for Jones. The fans poured in, a brewery poured beer into a Stacey Jones bottle, tears poured, poor Stacey was forced to front for some interviews, and Costo and his team poured it on.

Over to our commentators.

Firstly, Peter Ropati. "Newcastle are excited and they're here to play football as well."

Pardon?

Those lucky enough to have caught this pearl were quickly hit with another. The Warriors would make "personal pacts with each other" to farewell the champion in style.

Although, as it turned out, these pacts were not nearly as steadfast as the ones Jones, Iafeta Paleaaesina, Francis Meli and countless other Warriors have made over the years with overseas clubs.

The commentators quickly hit their stride.

There was something about the roar being heard all across the Tasman when the Little General walked down the tunnel, and coach Tony Kemp telling his players "not to forget what you're here for".

"The Stacey Jones factor will take care of itself," was among the other memorable lines.

Costo described you-know-who as "the most loved Warrior of them all".

And Daryl Halligan reckoned someone tried a move because "they thought they'd catch them on the blind with all the emotion".

This is known as the Blind Emotion Move.

Tears welled all right, although I'm not absolutely sure this was due to emotion.

This is not to denigrate Jones. Few New Zealand rugby players have reached his heights and the Warriors had one fantastic season, which is better than none. Just.

But for all of his brilliance, Jones has been far from perfect, as the Newcastle match showed. Maybe his greatest defect was in not being enough of a strong and charismatic general on and off the field, although ironically the Peter Pan persona has always kept him clear of too much criticism.

As a sporting nation, we save our venom for people like Justin Marshall - a tall and outspoken halfback with bleached hair who inspired his teams to win a stack of trophies.

Little Stacey has remained a hero, even though his team are playing like asses.

Tragedy was to strike on the farewell night.

The Warriors - as per usual - lost, scoring just one try and leaving one searching question.

If this was the best they could do when they were honouring the most loved Warrior, will they ever find another player willing to subject himself to such commemoration?

Imagine if you were the one due for the spiffy farewell and the last home game was against the tradition-soaked class of St George-Illawarra or Benji Marshall's revolutionary Wests Tigers right now.

The temptation would be to tear a posterior cruciate ligament out with a monkey wrench.

Saturday night's match followed the basic drill used by teams against the Warriors. It is league's version of boxing's rope-a-dope.

Part one involves letting the Warriors - or make that Steve Price - bash away for half an hour or so, absorbing the punishment while conceding maybe a try.

Part two involves the knockout punches against tiring heavyweights, although in Newcastle's case they needed only a couple of short jabs from Andrew Johns to send our heroes to the floor.

As the Warriors and Jones ran out of ideas and concentration, Newcastle put on a couple of impromptu plays, zipped in for the match-twinning tries, gave Stacey a bit of a hug, and followed the roar back across the Tasman.

It can only be assumed that Newcastle - who are still last in the competition - had made personal pacts and remembered what they were there for.

Those with eyes dry enough to glimpse that ruthless form guide known as the NRL points table will notice the Warriors languishing near last for a second successive year.

Which is a day many Kiwis thought - or at least hoped - would never come.